Before The Boy Who Lived
by EllaGotTheMagic
Summary: The Marauders were coming to Hogwarts. They had waited and waited, and they all knew that the adventures ahead were going to be great. The friends, the teachers, the classes, even the enemies. Yes, the Marauders were coming to Hogwarts, and they were ready, But was Hogwarts ready for them?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

A/N—So, welcome, everyone, whoever you may be! This story is essentially going to be the marauders' lives at Hogwarts. It will remain in third person and I won't be adding any particularly major plot points that will affect the canon Harry Potter timeline, but I hope it doesn't get too boring! Don't be afraid to message me if it does—constructive criticism is welcome! Thanks so much for reading!

The world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling

Sat in his office, Albus Dumbledore prepared himself for the upcoming year. September 1st had rolled around once again, and he was as ready as he would ever be. Which was, of course, even more prepared than necessary, given the fact that he was Albus Dumbledore. A wise man never denied his own ability where it was clear, he had once said. There were many things a man such as Albus Dumbledore had once said, and not all of them were as wise as that.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was polished and at the ready, the suits of armour shone, the portraits were free of the dust they had gathered over the six weeks in which no one but himself had been there to care for them and the house elves were cooking up their best feast yet down in the kitchens several floors below. It was true, Professor Dumbledore was as ready as he would ever be, but he still had an air of wariness about him as he mulled over what might happen in the year ahead. There were some big names approaching in the new set of first years. Potter, Snape, Mulciber, Black and Longbottom to name a few. Yes, it was good to remain wary, as you never know who could be lurking around the corner.

Platform nine and three quarters was buzzing. First years were grinning nervously, bouncing up and down on the balls of their feet, fifth years were groaning about the exams they would face at the end of the year, and seventh years were laughing and reminiscing with their old friends, all too aware that they would not be boarding the train in one year's time. Every few seconds, another family would appear seemingly through a solid brick wall, owls hooting from cages and broomsticks tied to trunks for safe keeping.

One of these families, no different from any of the others, were laughing through bittersweet smiles as they said goodbye to each other for the first time. The Potters were a renowned family in the wizarding world due to Mr Potter's invention of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, which had ultimately made the family fortune. Fleamont and Euphemia Potter had tried for several years to start a family together and had just about given up hope when Euphemia discovered she was pregnant. Their son, James, could do no wrong in their eyes. He was their pride and joy, even if the child had a tendency to cause trouble where it wasn't needed. He would do well at Hogwarts, they had decided, and so it was with bone-crushing hugs and promises of letters that the elderly couple waved their eleven-year-old off as he began the next stage of his life.

James Potter himself was a small, yet healthy-looking boy, with a mess of jet black hair and square glasses on his nose. His hazel eyes glittered with an intense curiosity that could rarely be matched in someone other than himself. Dragging his trunk behind him, James glanced carefully into each train compartment, hands shaking in excitement and, although he would not care to admit it, nervousness. Most people had already found their seats on the train, and it was a good five minutes before James found a compartment he wanted to sit in. There was one other boy in there—a first year like himself. Sliding the door open, he addressed his new classmate with a cheeky grin.

"Hello."

"Greetings, fellow first year," the boy said, causing James to snort at the mocking tone in his voice.

"Can I sit here?" James gestured to the seat opposite where the boy was slouched lazily.

"Well I don't know any magic yet, so I couldn't really hex you if you did so against my will. Yes, you may sit here."

"James Potter," he said, sitting down with a laugh.

"Sirius Black."

James froze. He knew of the Black family: blood purists and prejudiced to the extreme, and he was also all too knowing of how his family did not like the way the Blacks worked. They clashed, his father would say. Now unsure, James looked up again at the boy, Sirius, before him. He didn't seem bad, he thought desperately. There was a book lying abandoned next to him—a textbook. Okay, yeah, he seemed like an okay kid, and James wasn't going to dismiss him straight away. Ditching him would be easy enough if the time came and Black's true colours turned out to be…Black. Besides, his father always said to give new people a chance.

The conversation was full of the normal jokes an eleven-year-old boy would tell, and laughter filled the compartment within minutes. This Black boy was alright, and they were both in need of a friend. The train set off at a leisurely trundle, and the two boys spoke to each other undisturbed, no one else was in the compartment but them. Until, that was, a knock pulled the boys out of their conversation. It was opened by an old woman with a kindly smile, but that wasn't what James and Sirius were looking at. They were looking at her cart. Her cart full of _sweets_. Chocolate frogs, liquorice wands, cauldron cakes—everything.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked pleasantly.

Nodding eagerly, both boys spewed a long list of their favourite treats, pulling gold coin after gold coin out if their pockets. When they were finished, the trolley lad gave a tinkling laugh and pulled their chosen goods from the shelves, adding up prices quietly as she handed them their food.

James decided the train ride was his favourite part of Hogwarts so far, and Sirius let out a barking laugh at this statement.

"It's the only part of Hogwarts you've _seen_ so far," he pointed out, unable to keep the amused smirk off of his face.

They weren't interrupted again for another hour. The door to their compartment was opened by a tall boy with sandy hair and a scarred face. Strange. Scars? At eleven? It is needless to say that both boys were intrigued by their visitor, and that curiosity only grew when he quietly requested a seat.

"Where were you before?" Sirius asked suspiciously, not bothering to hide the fact that he was staring intensely at the scars on the boy's face.

"I was with some other first years," he explained, not meeting the eyes of James or Sirius, "But I didn't like what they were talking about. It was…mean."

"Oh…okay then," James cut in before Sirius could turn the boy away, as he was clearly considering doing, "My name's James. James Potter."

A small smile brightened the boy's features, and he introduced himself with more confidence than anything he had said previously.

"Remus Lupin."

James looked at Sirius giving his new ally (friend?) a silent request to be nice to Remus. A soft nod came from Sirius and he looked back over at Lupin, looking the boy in the eyes—rather than his scars—for the first time.

"Black. Sirius."

He seemed to brace himself for the reaction Lupin would have once he had told him his name, and sure enough, Remus's mouth made a small 'o' shape and he was suddenly nervous again. James cleared the seat next to him of sweet wrappers, Lupin sat down awkwardly. When you are particularly tall, as Remus was, but have a particularly small persona, as Remus did, everything you do seems a little awkward, and indeed all of Remus's actions made him appear as if he was trying desperately to shrink a few inches. It was almost as if his limbs weren't his own, as if there was another body somewhere that belonged to him.

Conversation in the compartment on the Hogwarts Express that was occupied by James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin had a variety of stages. One minute they were going through formalities ("I've heard of the Potters" and "Oh yes, my father knows of a Lyall Lupin") and then they were fantasising enthusiastically about what was ahead of them ("I want to fight a dragon" and "I want to watch you get killed by a dragon"), but it wasn't until all signs of modern civilisation seemed but a distant memory, in the eyes of three eleven-year-olds that is, that the one topic every first year knows is coming came up.

"I'm going to be in Gryffindor," James said after a few minutes silence. "The Potters are famous for it."

And they were. The house that favoured the brave had always been the house that called those of the Potter name. His father had told James countless stories about what happened in the Gryffindor common room and the fun he had in the dormitories. Fleamont wouldn't know what to so if his son wasn't accepted into the lion house. Mind you, it was pretty obvious that James was going to be in Gryffindor, as both of his parents often joked that some of his 'brave' (otherwise known as stupid) acts would make even Godric Gryffindor himself shake in fear.

"My dad was a Gryffindor, but my mum's a muggle, so I haven't really got a clue," Remus said, with an almost unnoticeable shrug.

They both looked over at Sirius, who suddenly couldn't seem to sit still, and waited for him to speak.

"Well, I think you both know where my lot usually go," he began, and both James and Remus nodded in affirmation, "But I don't know."

This shocked James to the core. All Blacks were in Slytherin. It was a known fact. He didn't think he had heard any stories of one going somewhere else. The surprise must have been evident on his face, as Sirius grinned.

"I know. Terrible, isn't it? I've always felt…different from them. My mother can see it, my father can see it, I can see it. I worry I'll give my parents heart attacks and end up somewhere other than Slytherin, and they'll never forgive me for that."

He shrugged and looked out the window, and for a moment James saw nothing but a little boy, but it was just a moment, and he would never tell Sirius that.

After a very awkward silence, Remus brought up a (much needed) change of subject, and with the houses temporarily forgotten, the boys looked happy once again.

Eventually, after what seemed like both forever and no time at all, a prefect with pristine uniform and an important look on her face knocked loudly on the compartment door.

"We're arriving in about five minutes, so you should start getting everything you want for the feast, otherwise known as not a lot, so you can get off the train quickly."

She excited the compartment as soon as she's finished speaking, not bothering to look nice or be polite.

"I guess we leave our stuff here then," Remus said, and both the other boys nodded calmly—they had both had step by step walkthroughs of what to do on their first day.

When the train pulled in, James was eager to be first off. So, he and Sirius (Remus decided to just stick as closely behind them as possible) elbowed their way through the hoards of teenagers until they jumped onto the platform. Crisp, fresh air inflated their lungs and the grins on the boys' faces were almost identical as they followed the voice calling first years over to the riverbank.

The adventure had begun.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N—I do not own the Harry Potter universe!

"The Black Lake," Sirius Black said as he sat in a small, cramped boat, "They named it after me!"

A distracted laugh echoed around the boat, which seated four. On this particular vessel (for the want of a better word) was Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin and a short, blond boy by the name of Adam Henry. Remarkably boring, the only thing that appeared, to his three companions, remotely interesting about the boy was his ability to think that he was, in fact, an interesting person.

"When I was seven, I went on a boat ride with my family." He said, with a voice that carried far further than anyone else felt it should.

After a few moments, Remus spoke up:

"What happened on your boat trip, Adam?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing, really. There was lots of water."

James opened his mouth to reply, the glint in his eyes giving away the nature of his statement but was cut off by a chorus of delighted gasps.

Craning his neck around to see what everyone was excited about; a wide grin overtook James's features. Above him, majestic and brilliant, was Hogwarts castle. Towers and turrets stood everywhere, with glowing candle light coming from the many windows.

"That…is…amazing…" Sirius muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

The water glittered, and the children sat in the boats moved in silence, there were no words to describe the awe they felt, and Hagrid (the giant groundskeeper) watched the first-years as they drank in their surroundings. It was almost a shame when the boats bumped against the land, and everyone climbed out, the nervous excitement bubbling up inside them.

James walked with the crowd, Remus and Sirius on either side of him. He was still unsure of both boys, but he would rather go into the hall with kind-of-friends than alone. James really was what some people like to refer to as a people person.

When the group came to a halt in the entrance hall, chatter erupted amongst the new students, impatience taking over them as they waited. As it turns out, they didn't have to wait long, because soon a woman walked towards them.

She had come in through a set of great, wooden doors that stood directly in front of the first-years, and had black hair pulled up into a tight bun. She studied the students with judgemental eyes through her square spectacles, her lips a thin line. It didn't take long for the hall to fall into silence.

"I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor and Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts. Now, if you will all form a single-file line and follow me into the Great Hall where you will be sorted into your house."

Scurrying around to do as they were told, none of the children said a word under Professor McGonagall's scrutinising gaze. When they were still, she spoke again:

"If any of you are not aware, there are four houses at Hogwarts—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. You can earn points for your house, but also lose them. Your house is your family while you are at Hogwarts, so it would be wise to make a good impression."

A few nods came from certain students in the line, but McGonagall had already turned around sharply, and was leading the group into the Great Hall.

Nerves were setting in for James now. There were always so many things that could go wrong with this. What if he wasn't in Gryffindor like his father? What if he was in Slytherin? This thought caused him to glance quickly over at Sirius, who stood behind him. He didn't know what he would do if Sirius was in Slytherin, which was all too likely. Would they stay friends? He didn't know. Pulling himself together, James decided firmly to only focus on his own sorting for now. He would think about his new kind-of-friend later.

As he walked through the doors, James's eyes widened. There were four long tables, and each on was filled with hundreds of students staring hungrily at the first-years like wolves staring at their prey. Surely these people would eat James for breakfast! Moving his eyes slowly around the room, he then noticed a fifth, horizontal table at the end of the hall. This table was seating all the teachers and staff that worked at Hogwarts. A rather strange bunch, too, James thought, momentarily forgetting his nerves to notice a teacher who was only tall enough to see over the table when he sat on a pile of books. Interesting.

He was so lost in his thoughts that James didn't even notice when everyone stopped walking, and consequently almost crashed into Remus. He straightened himself up quickly and stood as still as he could, trying desperately not to lock eyes with Professor McGonagall, who was facing the students once again, a stool next to her and an old, ragged hat in her hand.

"When I call your name, come forward, I will place the sorting hat on your head, and it will sort you into a house," she spoke confidently, the hall now quiet apart from the odd whisper from an older student.

Wear a hat. Well, that seemed easy enough. What could go wrong? Of course, James suddenly thought of tons of hat-related injuries as this question crossed his mind, but he brushed them off calmly.

"But first," the new arrivals looked up interestedly, what was McGonagall about to say? "The song."

Placing the hat on the stool, the students and staff gazed patiently at the hat, as if they expected something to happen. James was almost ready to burst out laughing at the prank when a large rip in the hat widened, and a booming voice sang loudly:

" _Hats are very useful,_

 _Yes, hats are all the rage,_

 _Bowlers, top hats, bonnets too_

 _Are the centre of every stage._

 _But none are quite as useful,_

 _No none are quite as smart,_

 _As the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,_

 _The true work of art._

 _I will stare into your mind,_

 _And see who you are,_

 _There is nothing I can't find,_

 _I won't even look too far._

 _Gryffindor is brave,_

 _Hufflepuff is loyal,_

 _Lions look for chivalry,_

 _And badgers are ready for toil._

 _Slytherin is cunning,_

 _Ravenclaws learn best,_

 _The snakes are sly young creatures,_

 _And eagles ace the test._

 _There is a house for everyone,_

 _Whoever you may be,_

 _And when you try me on today,_

 _I'll see what I can see._ "

The hat finished with a flourish, and the entire hall burst into loud applause. James joined in happily—he had never been more impressed with an inanimate object before.

Professor McGonagall smiled slightly, the first time James had seen her do so, and opened a scroll that seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

" _Anderson, Jennifer_ ," McGonagall called, and a small, brown-haired girl walked out of the line, a nervous frown on her delicate features.

A few moments passed, each and every first-year waiting with baited breath, until the rip on the hat widened, and the voice called out to the hall:

"RAVENCLAW!"

The middle-right table erupted into cheers, the others clapping politely, and Jennifer Anderson pulled the sorting hat off of her head and sat daintily on the end of the Ravenclaw table.

Another name was called once the applause had died down, and the process happened again. Some people sat on the stool for seconds, other minutes, and it seemed as if speaking above a whisper when a student was being sorted would somehow ruin the sorting.

It wasn't long before McGonagall called a name James recognised.

" _Black, Sirius_."

James could almost hear the interest sparking over at the Slytherin table—several students sat their bore a family resemblance to Sirius, and the firm expectation in their eyes made James worry about any unwanted outcomes.

Sat with the battered sorting hat on his head, Sirius argued with it firmly.

" _I belong in Slytherin. Every Black does._ "

" _Ah, but do you, young man?_ "

" _Yes._ "

" _I think not. There is a fire inside you that calls for you to be set apart from them in ways not many could handle._ "

" _I am of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. I am a Slytherin._ "

" _No, you are not._ "

" _Yes, I am._ "

" _You are not like them, boy. You are destined for greater things._ GRYFFINDOR!"

The last word was shouted out to the entire hall, and for a moment, everyone was silent. A Black in Gryffindor? Such a thing was unheard of, yet here it was. When the moment was over, the Gryffindor table cheered more loudly than it had done for any other student. Slytherin didn't even pretend to clap, and when James looked over, the Black relatives were glaring at young Sirius as if he had just committed murder.

The boy himself walked calmly over to his new house; he locked eyes with each and every one of his cousins. They hated him now, but that was expected.

It took several minutes for Gryffindor's cheers to quieten, and when McGonagall read the next name, there was a shimmer of spark in her usually stern eyes.

Making her way down the alphabet, the Transfiguration teacher read the name of every first-year with a tight precision that made James wonder if she had looked over each one several times. Maybe she had. It was between five and ten minutes before another name caught James's attention.

" _Evans, Lily_."

James thought nothing of the name until the girl walked up to the stool. She was walking away from where she stood next to a sullen, dark-haired boy in too big robes. His hair was lank and greasy, and everyone he looked at who wasn't this Lily Evans got nothing but a stony glare. What intrigued James about the girl was how different she was to her companion. Sleek, ruby red hair and a poised demeanour, something about the girl made James looked for a few seconds longer than he normally would.

She sat down carefully, glancing at every table with an intensity that meant James could hear the analysis taking place in her mind. Academic, he guessed.

Lily Evans had a longer sorting. It was just over three minutes time before the sorting hat sent her over the Gryffindor table, where she took a seat besides Sirius.

However, James soon forgot Lily Evans and her grumpy friend. There was more important business.

He listened intently as Adam Henry went to Ravenclaw, and Alex Johnson went to Hufflepuff. Then, after Keira Lockley took her place at the Slytherin table, Remus Lupin was called.

The young boy walked towards Professor McGonagall calmly, his face giving away no expression. As Remus did so, James couldn't help but notice Headmaster Dumbledore lean in slightly, a twinkle gently lighting his blue eyes. He turned his attention back to Remus, who was now wearing the hat. His previously expressionless face now seemed slightly irritated.

A minute passed.

And another.

And another.

It would be soon, surely. It had to be—

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Remus stood up happily and sauntered over to the red and gold table that cheered for him, the scars on his face barely visible under his smile.

As the McGonagall read out the names, James grew impatient. Was it his turn yet? He had never been very good at waiting. When _Patterson, Jacob_ had been sorted into Ravenclaw, James knew it had to be his turn now.

" _Potter, James_."

Professor McGonagall seemed as if she already knew where to look as took a step forward. She probably did—everyone who saw James couldn't help but acknowledge the resemblance he bore to his father.

He swaggered up towards the stool confidently, stowing away his butterflies with a cheeky grin. Sitting on the stool, James glanced upwards as the sorting hat was placed onto his messy black hair.

" _Potter. Just like your father. Well, no surprise here._ GRYFFINDOR!"

James barely had time to register the voice that spoke in his ear before his legs were marching him over to where his two new friends were sat, cheering for him loudly.

"That was the quickest sorting yet, James," Remus said to him as he sat down, relief taking over him for a moment.

"Well, everyone knew I was going to be in Gryffindor."

"That makes one of us, then," Sirius chimed in, a sarcastic smirk dancing across his face.

James laughed, finally able to let loose after an extremely stressful day.


End file.
